Obituary: All Mvula ya Nangolo wanted was a blank page

ONE of the things Mvula ya Nangolo said when he called me in November 2017 was that with Emerson Mnangagwa at the helm, Zimbabwe was doomed.

Ya Nangolo knew Mnangagwa, Zimbabwe’s coup president, from their exile days in Lusaka, Zambia, when Zanu and Swapo cadres shared a house.

So, when I heard about his death at his Windhoek home in Tauben Glen yesterday, I recalled his drawling voice mocking me, as he often did ever since 2006 when we met for the first time at a bar in Hochland Park.

Often, he would throw in a few words of Shona, which is my home language. With his limited vocabulary, Ya Nangolo would still plough on into our discussion in Shona.

Our friendship deepened when a friend told Ya Nangolo that I also write books. I recall Ya Nangolo calling me the next day to come and collect his poetry anthologies ‘From Exile’ (1976), and ‘Thoughts From Exile’ (1991). Typical of him, Ya Nangolo took time to brief me on each of the poems.

In 2009, when I organised the first SADC Poetry Festival, Ya Nangolo was supposed to be the guest poet and speaker. But three days before the event in Windhoek, my co-organiser and poet Joseph Molapong informed me that Ya Nangolo could not make it – he had just undergone an operation.

Three years later and out of the blue, Ya Nangolo called. He was fine, he said. And wanted me to pick up another book for a possible review. At the time, I was running a column – Writing the Struggle – in the soon-to-die The Southern Times, where I reviewed books about liberation wars across the region. The anthology was ‘Watering the Beloved Desert’ (2008).

One line I put in the review would cause a rift between us for about a year. Ya Nangolo was not happy when I pointed out that he had used old poems to beef up the anthology. To me, it was an innocent observation, but it turned out to be a big issue for Ya Nangolo.

And he came back again – this time we met at The Namibian in 2014. Our friendship took off as if nothing had happened.

One thing about Ya Nangolo was his passion for books and people. Every time we met, he would talk about plans to start up something to promote literature. I do not remember meeting him anywhere without him carrying a bunch of newspapers. At one time, he agonised that people do not read any more. And was afraid too that his literary works would be forgotten.

The other thing was his bag of secrets from the war, and about several people he knew from exile. Many a time, he would lean over and whisper in my ear who dated who in Lusaka. He also would talk about which minister is as useless as an old mop.

Ya Nangolo was worried about the SADC region, the African and the continent.

I recall one day during lunch in Klein Windhoek when he sighed deeply and said: the continent is going nowhere, and like what he said about Mnangagwa, the African was doomed. Not only had he lost hope on the continent, the people and the leaders, but the youth as well. To Ya Nangolo, the youth have lost direction.

Most of the times whenever he spoke about such concerns, his face would fall. A deep sadness would sit in his eyes.

When that sadness lifts, Ya Nangolo’s eyes would be soft – as soft as some of his poems in ‘Watering the Beloved Desert’. One such poem is titled ‘From Exile’, where he contrasts bullets and the love for life.

“I’ve not been touched so tenderly/ I’ve been searched by bullets/ Going through my camouflage/ And leaving my heart so fresh/ I wish to feel again how life feels.”

Another poem is ‘Just a Glass’, which is not just a glass, but a memory. A moment in eternity. A joy to relive.

“Would you knowingly sip from a glass/ Thoughtfully poured for another lass/ Enjoy its especially chilled sweetness/ Firstly meant for someone else’s lips?”

One day when he started talking about his poems, I reminded him about some of these lines: “May I find shelter in your warm kind heart/ Should have told you long ago from the start/ As waves of love waltzed surely ashore/ Answering that inviting look in our eyes/ Now please come into my ever-open arms.”

Ya Nangolo just sniggered, and said he has a soft heart.

Sadly though, Ya Nangolo has taken with him his bag of secrets and the war memories, most of which he could not fit into his poems.

In an age of information overload, Sunrise is The Namibian’s morning briefing, delivered at 6h00 from Monday to Friday. It offers a curated rundown of the most important stories from the past 24 hours – occasionally with a light, witty touch. It’s an essential way to stay informed. Subscribe and join our newsletter community.